


The hunter and his wife

by FirenzeSun



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: AGAIN but this time slightly to the left, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blow Jobs, Canon-Typical Violence, First Kiss, Fix-It, Geralt apologizes but Jaskier's pissed, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Apologizes, Love Confessions, M/M, Mind Control, Monster of the Week, Post-Season/Series 01, their relationship is more broken than he thought
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:33:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22413277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FirenzeSun/pseuds/FirenzeSun
Summary: "Don't do this, don't-" there was a poison in his voice that Geralt had not known before. "Don't be nice to me just because- Certainly, not like this."Geralt blinked at him, he was completely lost. Did Jaskier wanted him to be mean to him?"You've listened to the song, didn't you? Yesterday. You've heard the song about the hunter and his wife?"Geralt nodded, knowing that now more than ever he had to pay attention to every single word Jaskier said."What you've heard is incomplete, for you see, the woman in the song, she dies."
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 31
Kudos: 806





	The hunter and his wife

**Author's Note:**

> So I made an attempt at doing an original song, attempt bc English is not my first language and finding rhymes in English is the worst.

His smile was bright for everyone to see, his voice clear and loud. The room boiling with his music and all the voices of the patrons who joined him in his songs. The coin rained easily afterwards. Jaskier said goodbye to his public, he thanked them, and retired to the room he had rented where he wouldn't have to think any longer on the subject of all his songs.

He failed, of course.

.

The months passed and it was marvelous how heavy his purse grew when he only had to sing and not run from monsters. He also had a reduction of the angry male family members who chased him. Melancholy wants solitude, so he took less partners. And the ones he did take, well, maybe there was a reason why they were mostly widows, but he didn't care for it.

.

His hand barely strayed on the strings when he saw the white mane settle in a corner of the pub. He closed his eyes to refocus, to bury again the pain deep down and only let out enough for his voice to vibrate on the tragic songs. He did all of his songs as if there was nothing out of the ordinary.

But they had seen each other, and there he was, brooding and waiting in a corner.

Jaskier looked resolutely away during the rest of his performance, and he kept looking away as he approached the innkeeper for his food and ale. But then he walked with his plate to the seat opposite, and dropped down on it with a sigh.

"What do you want?" he asked rudely, uncaring and tired.

"Jaskier," Geralt said his name in a tone he had never used with him and that Jaskier did not want to dissect.

He was not going to make this easy for him. He remained in silence while forcibly pinching his food with his fork before taking him to his too-dry mouth. Geralt cursed under his breath, and then sighed. "Jaskier, I- I'm sorry."

With that, the bard finally looked up to look him in the eye. His eyes, though deep, betrayed little emotion.

"I apologize for what I said. I was frustrated and angry, and I lashed out on you. But that was no excuse to hurt you. I'm sorry," his voice carried out a genuine emotion that Witcher's are trained to not feel, or at the very least, to hide and bury deep.

Jaskier sighed. "Alright."

"Alright?"

"Apology accepted."

"I-" clearly Geralt had been expecting for more, but he was clearly relieved. He offered him a small smile that in any other time, Jaskier would have soaked up in it. But now it was a painful tug in his heart. He offered him a tight smile in return.

Geralt's shoulders tensed again, clearly sensing things weren't as easy.

"I'm heading to Oxenfurt," Geralt said abruptly, clumsily.

"When are you leaving?"

"Tomorrow first hour," he paused, "probably," he added, trying to be less imposing.

Jaskier hummed. "I have a room here."

Geralt's predisposition fell, his lips thinning. He raised from the table.

"Where the fuck are you going?" Jaskier asked, the anger he had buried long ago raising to the frontline.

"I better set camp now, before-"

"Don't be daft," Jaskier interrupted him. "Grab something to eat and we'll share."

.

It wasn't that Geralt had been expecting for things to fall back immediately as how they were before. He expected awkward periods and stilted conversations. What he wasn't expecting was a silent Jaskier.

He still made some noise. He played his lute and hummed songs to low for Geralt to understand. But otherwise, it would have felt like traveling alone, if it weren't for the burning presence Jaskier was at his side. A wraith made out of his own guilt.

"Is there a lead?" Jaskier asked after a while.

The question startled Geralt. "What?"

"Is there a lead on a contract?" Jaskier repeated with a bored voice.

"Yes, a contract for a siren that has been attacking near the port. Maybe a lamia."

"Hmm," Jaskier said, and it sent lead through Geralt's throat.

He hated this role reversal.

"Are you alright?" Geralt said turning his head to look at him while they walked on the road.

"Yes, of course," Jaskier replied injecting his voice with some joviality.

But it felt like a performance, and it left Geralt uneasier. When night was close, Geralt took them into the forest.

"Stay with Roach, I'll gather some food and wood."

Jaskier sent Geralt a look that was akin to a glare, and nodded once. It took longer for Geralt to get the hare as his mind was too occupied with the way those blue eyes had pierced him. He wondered if he had truly ruined things with Jaskier and if he had lost his friend. If Jaskier only agreed to accompany him for new material for his songs, and not out of companionship.

He returned following the sound of Jaskier playing a new melody on his lute. He was humming the lyrics to himself. Geralt suspected he didn't want him to hear them as before he had never had trouble letting Geralt hear whatever half-formed verses he had. Jaskier stopped playing when he saw him, and silently helped him set up the fire.

They ate in silence. Geralt not knowing how to have casual conversation, and Jaskier choosing not to. It was a chilly night, cold enough that they would usually share the bedroll so they could share body heat. But Jaskier had pulled his bedroll away, and had curled in it with his back towards Geralt.

The witcher watched him and held back his scream of frustration. Instead he took out a cape from his satchel.

"Here," he said extending his hand towards him.

Jaskier rolled around with a curious look.

"Take this."

He looked at the cape, and then he looked back at Geralt.

"I'm fine, Geralt."

"Don't be stubborn, you'll freeze," Geralt insisted shaking a bit the cape.

"I said I was fine, I don't need it, and if I do I'll use my own."

Jaskier challenged him with his eyes. Geralt had faced monsters and evil mages without stepping back even an inch. He had went against things that wanted to maim him or outright kill him without trepidation. But it was the way Jaskier's eyes bore into him, that made him lower his arm.

"Alright," he said, voice wavering for a witcher, "I'll leave it next to Roach if you need it."

"Good night, Geralt," Jaskier said, but it was not courteous, it was dismissive.

Geralt didn't answer, not that it was expected. He left the cape and sat on his bedroll. Witchers didn't cry, not with tears at least. But in this moment, Geralt wished he had a way to let his anguish cry out from his heart.

He knew sleep would elude him, so he sat to meditate. He stirred only once, to see Jaskier shivering while he hugged himself. He took the cape back, covered him with it and went back to meditate. In the morning, Jaskier said nothing about it. While they were picking up camp, Geralt found the cape folded and back in his satchel.

.

They had rented a room at the Three Little Buds, after speaking with the lead that Geralt had had. There was in fact a contract for a monster that had been killing men, near the port. There had also been disappearances in the zone, that may be associated to the same monster. They had talked to a couple of witnesses, one had not seen much save the beautiful voice of what appeared a woman. The other had managed to see a creature with wings but nothing more.

Geralt then headed to the blacksmith to repair his swords that he hadn't managed to take care as well as he should have -Vesemir would be disappointed- while searching for Jaskier on the Path. Jaskier had gone back to the inn to prepare for the night, where he would be singing afterwards. After looking so long for him to make things right, Geralt hated the feeling of relief he got from the temporal separation. But having this silent distant Jaskier, was worse than if he had lost him completely.

It was torture.

But he guessed he deserved it.

It was ironic. He was finally willing to admit Jaskier was his friend, when he no longer was. But that was Destiny for you.

The sun was about to set, it was still relatively early, when he arrived back at the tavern. He was about to enter the room they both shared, when he heard the notes from Jaskier's lute come out. For some reason, his feet -that had barely made a sound on the wooden floor- stopped right outside the door. It was familiar, the same melody he had heard him try out before in the woods. But this time, probably thinking Geralt would remain at the blacksmith more time, he sang the lyrics he had hushed before.

_Go back to the kitchen, darling  
Outside this house you're not safe  
Leave the meat knife, darling  
You'll cut yourself, he said_

_He's gone again hunting  
I could leave these walls  
If I go he won't be missing  
To this frail maiden_

_This is not my white knight  
I've been promised so much more  
His shouts in the night  
Sound of hate and discontent_

_He's gone again hunting  
I could leave these walls  
If I go he won't be missing  
To this frail maiden  
If I go he won't be missing me  
So why am I still trapped here_

He had never paid much attention before to the metaphors in Jaskier's songs before. He wished he had had the habit now. He thought of turning around and skipping town, find another contract, somewhere far away. His presence clearly made the bard miserable.

Before he could get to a resolution in his mind, the door opened and Jaskier was out, lute in hand. He threw Geralt a knowing, and somewhat displeased, look at seeing him standing in front of the door.

"I'm going down to perform. I had expected that it'd have taken you more time, so I didn't ask for the bath until another two hours."

"Can I watch you play?" Geralt asked. He had never wanted to before in particular, and he had never felt less welcome as now.

"There's nothing stopping you," Jaskier replied, which wasn't a true answer. It was closer to a no than a yes, but Geralt would take it. He needed to hear Jaskier's songs, to know if there was anything else he was missing.

What he learned wasn't exactly new. But behind the pain and anger Jaskier's fake smiles tried to hide, Geralt heard perfectly the intensity with which the bard had loved him.

He had been a fool.

He left before Jaskier was done, unable to hear anymore.

.

When the morning came the next day, they went to the morgue - though morgue was too big a word for a shack near the port where they stashed the bodies- to talk to one of the most idiotic medics Geralt had met in his travels. First, the man had stared at him like an owl when he told him he was there to examine the bodies. Then he had insisted on being shown the paperwork from the mayor who had hired Geralt through a proxy before letting him near the bodies, as if the morgue wasn't an improvised place to accumulate the bodies. And why did he need to see the bodies if everyone knew it was a siren.

Geralt was about to Axii the man and be done with it, when Jaskier stepped forward. His hips lose, his pose relaxed and friendly. He begun chatting up the man, talking about life at the academy, complaining about different professors and laughing at the lame jokes the medic did. It was a glimpse at the old Jaskier, the one Geralt had come to know. But this time, Geralt saw Jaskier's attitude as for what it was.

A performance.

He wondered, bitterly, if all he had known of Jaskier before had been a performance. If the man had never been honest with him and only now he had caught in the lie when he had decided to stop performing for him. His heart contorted preemptively, already feeling the betrayal of having fallen for a lie. But the most sensible part of Geralt, told him it might had been his fault. Had he ever bothered to try to know the real Jaskier? Or had he labeled him as annoying and idiotic and never gave him a second thought?

By the time, the medic looked at him and gave him permission to examine the bodies Geralt didn't had an answer.

Then Geralt wanted to throttle the medic. On all of the incredibly pale victims' bodies, on their necks, two puncture marks. A siren his ass.

"It's a fucking vampire," Geralt growled and looked at Jaskier expecting some quip, maybe a knowing look about having to endure idiocy everywhere. But Jaskier's eyes, though fix on him had none of the warmth, nor the mischief.

Once again, Geralt felt lonely.

He left the morgue with a huff and no words. He knew this kind of behavior was the opposite of what he needed to do to get back on Jaskier's good books. But he was hurt, and jealous of the stupid medic, and lonely, and tired. He heard the steps signaling that once more, Jaskier had followed him.

"Seems to be a Bruxa. The only one with wings and that kind of bite mark," he explained, offering freely the information that before Jaskier would had had to drill him for. "Let's search the places where the men were attacked to see if we can track her. But be careful, Bruxas are immune to the sun and can pass themselves for regular women."

"I'll be careful," Jaskier said, and maybe his tone was neutral with hints of annoyed. But Geralt didn't care about that, just about the promise.

Despite having been cleaned, there was still enough remaining blood for Geralt to find perfectly the places where the victims had been attacked. The first victim had struggled with the vampire, clearly realizing what had happened. There were claw marks on the wall, and the metallic odor of blood from where she had cut him. The washed out pool of blood clearly what had fallen from when she had drained him.

The second victim had had a short-lived fight. There was a mark on the wall where his head had hit it. She had either pushed him, or most likely, sent a scream at him that threw him back. After that, he hadn't been able to defend himself when she buried her fangs on his neck. The last victim, had been attacked by surprise, not signs of a fight at all.

Geralt had been trying to find any trace of the bruxa to track her down. But whenever he found one, it went up into the sky to where he couldn't follow. There was no lingering monster smell to see where she had come from, it was like she had appeared from thin air. Which meant she probably lured her victims disguised as a woman before turning into the monster she was. It clearly explained why the last one hadn't fighted.

Frustrated, Geralt turned to the victims, trying to find any evidence that linked them together, to how she was choosing them.

"You know, we might make a better time, if we go back to the morgue. It might be easier," Jaskier suggested.

"I'm not going back there."

"Just saying."

Geralt growled in response and Jaskier fell back into silence. He finally picked a common scent coming from the victims' blood.

"Alcohol."

"A bit early in the day for that, isn't it?"

Geralt swallowed the growl of annoyance. "They all had alcohol in their blood."

"So you're saying she likes them drunk. It's blood with alcohol tastier?"

"Not usually. But they're probably easy prey."

Jaskier hummed in agreement. "There's a tavern called the Alchemy near here."

"We might as well eat something," Geralt said.

"So now what?"

"We eat something, and then we wait."

Jaskier raised an eyebrow, clearly with opinions about Geralt's hunting plan, but kept them to himself. Still, in the past hours he had talked to him more than he had talked in their entire journey to the city. So Geralt counted it as progress.

.

"Are you planning on playing here?" Geralt said after they had nearly finished their meals in silence.

"I didn't bring my lute here."

"We could go to fetch it, she probably won't appear until it's night. It would be nice to hear you while I wait."

Jaskier sent a glare to him.

"Stop this," he said letting the fork with food fall into the plate, uncaring about how many heads turned to look at the clatter.

"What-?"

"Don't do this, don't-" there was a poison in his voice that Geralt had not known before. "Don't be _nice_ to me just because- Certainly, not like this."

Geralt blinked at him, he was completely lost. Did Jaskier wanted him to be _mean_ to him?

"Not like what?"

"I don't want you to be nice to me just because you know you can lose me. Just so when you're sure you've got my devotion fully secured, you can go back to behave as you always did."

"I'm not-"

"You've listened to the song, didn't you? Yesterday. You've heard the song about the hunter and his wife?"

Geralt nodded, knowing that now more than ever he had to pay attention to every single word Jaskier said.

"What you've heard is incomplete, for you see, the woman in the song, she dies. She's not strong enough, and she fails to leave. That's the point of the song. She tries to leave many times, but every time she's about to, he makes a kind gesture to her. He's a gentleman, and tender, and loving. Just so that she gets hope. So she stays through the insults and the beatings waiting for the next kind gesture. Only that one time, the gesture never arrives and it's too late."

"But you see," Jaskier continues, and he raises his eyes from where he had fixed them past the counter, to look at Geralt. It's like daggers, but daggers would be softer. "The woman in my song, she's stronger than I am. She at least has the intention of leaving."

"Jaskier, I-"

Witchers do not feel. Witchers do not cry. But Geralt's eyes shone with unshed tears. He wished he didn't.

"Spare me having to hear you say that you'd never hurt me, you've been doing so for over a decade. But it's okay, I've accepted my fate. Just don't play with me, not anymore."

Geralt didn't know what to say, nor what to do. He wanted to fall into his knees and beg forgiveness while sobbing. He wanted to hug Jaskier and bury him in his chest until all pain passed. But he knew it wasn't welcome. He took Jaskier for granted, and then broke their relationship beyond repair.

He thought maybe he should have mercy.

"I think we should part ways then," Geralt said, breaking his own heart.

Jaskier chuckled. "I did say you should stop trying to be nice."

He stayed where he was, playing with the knife on the plate. Geralt just looked at him, and tortured himself with every single mistake he had done with him in their time together.

.

The Bruxa either didn't appear or Geralt was too distracted and had missed her. There was no point in waiting further not with Geralt's state of mind. So they returned to the other inn, even when the night still had some hours more left.

"I'll play some songs," Jaskier said, lute in hand, once they were back in their room. "Do not come to listen."

Geralt did not watch him leave, instead, he waited until he could hear the soft notes of the lute at the distance, and screamed his pain away. He managed to limit his destruction to just the chairs, just because he knew Jaskier was going to return to this very same room.

When his breathing and anger at himself had calmed down enough, he restocked on Black Blood and vampire oil to keep his hands busy, even though they shaked every step of the way. It was because of his distraught state that it took him longer than usual to make the formulas and hadn't noticed it early. But Jaskier hadn't returned and when he atuned his hearing, there were almost no voices coming from the bar.

.

He had sang some of his sadder ballads. They wouldn't give him much coin, but he was not after it. He just needed to let out the anguish of his confrontation with Geralt. The pain that had lodged in his heart and constricted it ever since Geralt had sent him away on the mountain. The pain that had shifted shape now that they were reunited, but still made breathing hard.

He then approached the innkeeper, asked for some ale, needing to wet his mouth and to help him sleep afterwards.

"You have a beautiful voice," a woman said sitting in the empty sit next to him. "There was real sorrow in your songs, I enjoyed it."

The woman was beautiful, a breathtaking beauty that would have driven him insane had it been any other day. She had pale skin, soft as ceramic. Her black hair long and straight, the strands brushing against the curves of her breasts that peaked from an extremely thin brown shirt.

Jaskier wasn't planning on fucking her, but entraining the idea lifted his spirits. "Thank you, my lady," he replied with a flirting smile.

The woman smiled dangerously and a shiver ran through Jaskier's spine. He wished then he wasn't in such a sour mood, for he would love to go somewhere private and bury himself in her. Forget everything but the slide of her nipples against the hair of his chest and the wetness of her pussy around him.

But that would be pretending. Pretending he wasn't a fool in love, the uncrowned princess loving the hunter that would kill her. He didn't had the energy to pretend that much, for as long as a tumble in the sheets would last.

He could entertain this though, harmless flirting over a drink.

"Who has caught your heart, my dashing bard, to put so much pain in such a beautiful voice? Was it the big bad wolf?" she asked, her voice a seductive whisper.

"That's too unsavoury talk for such a delightful company," Jaskier danced around.

The woman smiled at him again, sending another shiver through Jaskier. "I believe I have something for your bounded heart."

Oh, well, it had been a nice game while it lasted. "I'm afraid I won't make a pleasant company."

"But I insist," she said, and moved Jaskier's hair from his ear. None at the inn could hear what had come out of her mouth, but Jaskier stood up abruptly and followed her. The lute laid forgotten over the bar.

.

Geralt run following Jaskier's scent. A scent that usually brought him comfort, chamomile and wood; but right now it brought the distress of the distance. He ran cursing himself for letting Jaskier out of his sight when he knew there was a monster loose that could enchant with her voice.

The trail brought him near the port and to the sounds of a struggle. The Bruxa had discarded her illusion and, as the monster she was, she had lost the control on Jaskier. She was bended over him, trying to get to his neck, but Jaskier was resisting. A hand on her face, the other one on her neck, but he wouldn't be able to hold down for long.

As silently and fast as he could, he brought his sword down on the Bruxa's back. He made a slice that even continued to a wing. The Bruxa screeched, and as she could, flew away to a lower roof on the nearest house. She transformed back to a woman, and she sang in her native tongue.

Movement on the corner of his vision deviated Geralt's eyes from the Bruxa, just in time to see Jaskier's face transformed into a snarl as he slammed into him. He wasn't much of a threat yet, armed only with his fists, but Geralt knew he would get creative after a while.

He couldn't fight him, not without risking the Bruxa recovering enough to fly away or risking hurting Jaskier. Geralt's guilt was so much, than even like this, he was hesitant of adding any more injury to Jaskier, even if just to knock him off.

He sent Jaskier flying back with an Aard to buy himself time. He took his crossbow from his back with its arrows embedded on vampire oil, and aimed at the Bruxa's head. A flash of silver briefly made him cast his look down. Jaskier had pulled out the knife that Geralt had given him almost a decade ago, so he at least had a chance of defending himself if he had been to accompany him in his travels.

The Bruxa was pushing herself, about to take off. Geralt could shoot her before she flew away or he could defend himself from Jaskier. The choice was easy.

He aimed the crossbow to the Bruxa's head. The arrow flew away and the knife sunk into his stomach.

The knife twisted into his stomach.

The Bruxa fell with an aborted shout. Dead.

"Geralt!"

Geralt looked back at blue eyes, open wide in horror.

He looked down. Jaskier's hands still on the handle of the knife, his hands already red with his blood.

He smiled.

"It's okay," he whispered. "New ending. The wife killed the hunter."

"Geralt! No, no, no!" Jaskier sobbed, trying to contain the blood around the knife.

"It's okay," Geralt repeated, his smile bigger, softer, red. "It's fair."

"No, it isn't! Do you listen to me?! No, it isn't!" Jaskier sobbed, snot escaping from his nose. "You die on me and I'll never forgive you! Healer!"

Geralt was at peace. "I'm sorry," he said, raising his hand to cover Jaskier's cheek. "You deserved better."

"Geralt, please!" Jaskier sobbed. And then shouted again with all the strength of his lungs. "Healer!"

Darkness begun to call him, this was his last chance to say goodbye. "You always were my blessing," he whispered, his hand fell.

He went away listening to Jaskier's sobs, sad that he was causing him pain one last time. Glad it was the last time.

.

The first thing he noticed was the rotten smell. The second was the pain on his stomach. He blinked, slowly becoming aware of his surroundings and saw the figure standing near him.

"You're awake," a beautiful voice said with relief and no contempt directed towards him. He couldn't help a smile.

"Where am I?"

Jaskier grimaced. "You're not gonna like it."

A raised eyebrow.

"We're at the morgue, minus the other bodies that were disposed of. Ah, ah, play nice when he comes. He saved your life. I couldn't take you back to our room, so I had your bag brought back here. I gave you your healing potion, the red one. Just a bit, didn't want to risk an overdose. Don't worry, I recognize it well after all these years. You've been asleep for a day. Apparently it wasn't that big of a cut, you dramatic arsehole. I mean, it might have killed a human with a regular heartbeat, but it was easy to sew and you didn't lose that much blood."

It was a miracle. Not that Geralt had survived but that Jaskier was babbling to him. He had missed it, and Geralt was no longer in the business of denying it.

"I'm sorry," he said again.

"For what? For almost letting me murder you and made me carry the guilt of having my best friend's blood on my hands? For pushing me away on the mountain? Or for telling me that my voice was like a pie with no filling? Oh, no, I'm still not letting that one go."

"For everything, for every time I took you for granted," Geralt implored.

"I- you're not the hunter, Geralt," Jaskier said, voice tight with emotion held back for a long time. "You're not- _abusive_. I mean, you're not paragon of kindness, you definitely have to treat me better. But you're not a husband beating his wife. You're not, you never were, a monster. You just were someone who broke my heart."

"I'm sorry, I- I shouldn't have. Truth is, I was scared. I didn't want you to one day break my heart like Yennefer, so I decided to break yours instead."

"For Melitele's sake, we're a mess," Jaskier laughed humorlessly.

"We are," he agreed. "Will you- will you stay with me?"

"We still need to take you back to the inn, so of course." Geralt face fell in disappointment. "Gods, no, I was joking. Yes, yes, I'll always be at your side as long as you learned not to take me for granted. I am a bit at fault too, I let your slights side. But not anymore."

"I don't want to hurt you ever again," Geralt said seriously and dramatically.

"I guessed as much when you didn't even tried to defend yourself against me and let me pierce your stomach," Jaskier said. "Of course you had to make some big ass gesture. But joke's on you, I _will_ turn this into a song and you can't complain about it."

Geralt groaned.

"Hey, I said not complaining."

.

After most of the day had to be spent at the impropentu morgue, the medic finally declared Geralt fit enough to slowly do the travel to their room at the inn. Though the medic did so mostly under duress of Geralt's glare. Jaskier went to get Roach, so she could carry Geralt who was in no condition to walk all the way to their inn.

Jaskier thanked the medic with many words, and rushed to Roach side to guide her by her reins.

"You shouldn't have been so hard on the poor fellow," Jaskier said. "I had been only trying to make you jealous."

Geralt groaned unamused. Even though Roach was walking softly, the cadence hurt his stomach. Which did not help to his feelings to stupid medics who couldn't find an obvious vampire bite and who were too familiar with his bard.

Jaskier laughed. "I gotta say. I didn't thought something so childish would rile you up." He sighed. "Don't you worry, I haven't felt like performing much more for a long time."

"Are you performing now?" Geralt asked him.

Jaskier stopped briefly to turn to look Geralt in the eye. "No, I decided to not perform for you any longer."

"Good."

Jaskier smiled briefly. "Let's wait for the heavy talk until we're back on our room. Meanwhile, what rhymes with dramatic arse?"

Geralt groaned, but a smile curved his lips anyway.

.

"Let me check your bandages. They surely need changing," Jaskier said as soon as he helped Geralt to the bed.

"You've changed them a few hours ago, they are fine," Geralt complained.

"And you've ridden a horse across town, when you should have not even gotten up from bed," Jaskier ignored as he picked the supplies from the bag he had carried. "You surely upset the stitches. Now, now, I know it was the better option as you may have gotten an infection in that putrid corpse smelling place or murdered the medic. Nevertheless, I'm still checking your bandages."

Geralt huffed, but didn't complain any further.

He couldn't lift his arms, so Jaskier helped him out of the loose shirt he had put on him for the translocation. Geralt was pliant on his arms, letting Jaskier move him as he wished. His breath slowed, controlled as Jaskier removed the bandages that had become bloodied.

"Wasn't that much damage," he murmured. "Anyway, hold on."

He cleaned the wound softly, and then with a soft apology, he threw some alcohol in it. Geralt hissed. "Sorry," he said again.

"It's okay."

"No, it isn't," Jaskier said, tears adorned his eyes.

He then took the balm that he had prepared out of Geralt's collection of herbs and with his instruction and applied it softly. His hands lingering more than necessary on Geralt's stomach.

"She used my anger against you, you know? I heard her command, and not only was I forced to obey her, but part of me, also wanted to. I wanted to hurt you," he said his voice trembling, his eyes on the floor.

"It wasn't your fault. Mind-control magic always exploits the victim's feelings whenever it can," Geralt said softly, his hand going to Jaskier's cheek, wanting him to understand.

"I didn't fight it. I was going to kill you and I didn't even try to fight it," Jaskier sobbed, moving his head away so Geralt's hand would fall.

Geralt, however, took Jaskier's head again, this time with both hands. "It wasn't your fault," he repeated slowly and firmly. "You aren't at fault for being angry at me. Your anger was fair. And you aren't a fault either for the Bruxa exploiting that. She would have even exploited anger about the time I woke you up too early if necessary. Do you understand?"

Jaskier nodded softly. "Let me put the new bandages."

Geralt felt Jaskier's warmth everytime the bard had to surround him to pass the cloth around him. Their breaths teased their hairs like a breeze, as everything unsaid lingered between them.

"Jaskier," Geralt exhaled holding his wrist when Jaskier had finished.

Blue eyes pierced him.

A broken whimper of one of them. Maybe both.

Their lips met in sweet surrender. A kiss that had a decade and a half in the building, and yet, it was rushed and soft, passionate and delicate. Geralt's free hand went to Jaskier's neck as his tongue begged for entrance. Jaskier granted it with a sigh.

Without breaking the kiss, he climbed further into the bed, to sit on Geralt's legs. His legs surrounded delicately his waist, mindful of the bandages. The hand that Geralt held climbed softly to his chest, while the other got buried in white hair.

They broke the kiss so they could breath deeply, and then Jaskier proceeded to plant kisses all along Geralt's jaw, his cheek, his eyes.

"Jaskier," Geralt laughed, trying to get him to stop, but his laugh only encouraged Jaskier further. "Jaskier."

"Mine," Jaskier said, kissing now his neck.

"I am," Geralt said giving up, and moving his neck to give Jaskier room. They weren't lustful kisses, he wouldn't bruise. They were kisses for the sake of kisses, and Geralt accepted them, unused to them as he was.

Eventually Jaskier tired, so Geralt kissed him again on the mouth. This time it was Geralt's turn to show how he felt. The kiss was slow, unhurried and deep. By the end, Jaskier sighed of satisfaction, lowering his head to rest it on the crook of Geralt's neck. Silent for a few minutes.

"Geralt?" Jaskier asked softly.

"Hmm?"

"I know I implied already. And I hope it's not too soon and it scares you away. But after everything, this time I really want to say it. I don't want anything to happen with at least not saying it once."

He was nervous, babbling.

"Hey," Geralt said taking Jaskier by the chin so he would look at him. "I won't ever push you away. Not again."

"I love you." His mouth letting out what his blue eyes had said a long time ago.

Geralt closed his eyes under the onslaught of emotion. He swallowed once, letting in the past, at least for now, decades of learned protective behavior. "I love you too," he said before Jaskier could even begin to doubt himself.

Jaskier smiled, bright and lightly.

.

"When I said I wanted to leave this place, I didn't mean to say I wanted to go to a fucking court ball," Geralt complained as Jaskier adjusted the fine clothing on the witcher's body.

"We talked about this. I can only extract so much coin from the same patrons every night. We do this tonight, and tomorrow we'll be on the Path again but with a full purse to last us a while. Just because we're leaving doesn't mean that I want you pulling contracts so soon."

"Since when do you decide when I will be doing contracts?"

"Since you agreed to enter a romantic relationship with me on behold of respecting my opinion as an equal," Jaskier said, giving the final touches to Geralt's neck.

"I'm regretting this," he huffed. "Besides, I already have a Surprise Child waiting for us at Kaer Mohen, I don't need another one."

"As long as _you_ don't invoke the Law of Surprise again, we should be safe," Jaskier said smugly, patting his cheek twice. "Besides, as you're healed enough for the Path, as reward, we might take advantage of our last night with a bed for a while."

Geralt didn't complain any longer.

.

On behalf of his healing wound and the novel of their newfound relationship, Geralt and Jaskier hadn't go further than kisses and some minor groping. Geralt wasn't in a rush, he enjoyed the tenderness of waiting. But now that he allowed himself the feeling, he longed for Jaskier's touch.

When they got back to their room, Jaskier was practically vibrating, a grin plastered on his face. The adrenaline and excitement of a big enthusiastic crowd. They had loved Jaskier's performances, and Jaskier had loved every second of it. He still carried all of the lively energy from the music.

He was beautiful.

"Did you see them, Geralt? Did you?" he spoke a mile a minute. "They knew _all_ the lyrics, they sang along so much. They wouldn't stop asking for another one. Even after did three extra songs. And it wasn't even a concert, it was just a ball, and they didn't ask the same of the other bards. Did you notice? Oh! And did you see them when I performed the softest ones? Even the duke was crying! I saw him! Did you see him too?"

Geralt smiled softly at him. He approached him, and slowly took the lute from his hands to deposit it on the nearby table. Cutting Jaskier's babbling on its tracks, though he was still a case of contained energy.

"I can't say I was paying attention to them, when I had your lovely face to look at," he whispered.

"So you weren't paying attention that no vengeful father, brother or spouse approached me?"

"Dammit, Jaskier. One time I try to be romantic…"

But Jaskier cut him with a fast kiss. The grin he regaled him with let him know he was being an insufferable little shit.

"Come here," Geralt said grabbing him by the waist and pushing him close together. He kissed him again, deeper this time, with a hint of promise for what was coming.

Jaskier didn't remained subdued for long. He soon surged forward, burying his tongue in Geralt's mouth and claiming dominance. With hurried excited fingers, he disrobed Geralt. He exposed that big chest and caressed it with curious hands, teasing the nipples until Geralt groaned and pushed their hips together making him moan.

"Undress me, Geralt," Jaskier commanded him, and Geralt obeyed.

He took his time with each piece of clothing, caressing skin as it was revealed. He was also careful with the clothes, taking the time to put them on a chair. When he was finally naked, Geralt cupped his ass, and then moved his hands to his thighs to lift him and carry him to the bed where he deposited him softly.

"How do you want it?" Geralt asked him, looking him softly in the eyes.

"I want your mouth for now. Everywhere," Jaskier breathed out, but with decision.

This was their new dynamic. Now, Jaskier asked for what he wanted, and Geralt complied.

He kissed his neck first, his teeth playing with the tendons there. But he didn't linger there so to not leave exposed marks. Instead he went to his collarbone then his pectoral. He did leave marks there. Bites and bruises. He worried the little nubs of Jaskier's nipples with teeth and fingers and tongue until the bard was squirming underneath him, before moving downwards.

He followed the trail of Jaskier's hair until he reached the most beautiful treasure. Jaskier's cock red and hard waiting for him on a bed of dark curls. Geralt couldn't help but inhale and absorb all the deepest scents of Jaskier.

"Fuck, why is you inhaling me like an animal so hot?" Jaskier moaned. "Please, hurry."

With a smile on his face, Geralt licked the crown of Jaskier's cock, tasting Jaskier's precome. He entertained himself with the head for a while as he stroked the rest before swallowing him down. He then started bobbing his head up and down, as Jaskier trashed underneath him, trying to not accidentally kick him.

"You look so fucking, Gods. Is this just you- or is it a witcher mutation - _fuck_ \- to be so good at cocksucking. Look at you taking me cock, you do it so well. Geralt, look at you, _please_ ," Jaskier hips tried to move up, but where held down by Geralt's strong hands. "A bit more please. My cock in your mouth looks so fucking good. Fuck, Geralt, stop, stop this very second or I-"

Geralt stopped at Jaskier command, and smirked, when despite everything, the bard whined in frustration. He kissed his way up as Jaskier recovered his breath.

Jaskier kissed him and then, traced his swollen lips with his thumb.

"Take off your damn pants and come to lie here."

Geralt hurried, hissing when his hard cock was finally free of the pressure of his pants. He climbed onto bed and lied on his back next to Jaskier who turned and straddled him.

"My turn," he said and swallowed down Geralt's _"you don't have to,_ " with a kiss. He kissed every muscle, every scar, cherishing the man underneath him and making Geralt feel loved.

Here was a simple fantastic ordinary human seeing not the Witcher, not the Butcher or Hunter, but the man he was. And he had deemed him worthy of his love.

Jaskier kissed him on the stomach next, apologetic. His hands trembling slightly as they caressed the still angry red scar.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, not meeting Geralt's eyes.

"Don't be," Geralt said. "You could have stabbed me in the heart."

"Geralt, don't make it worse," Jaskier said, his voice thin with regret.

"No," Geralt said and grabbed Jaskier's shoulder to bring him closer. He kissed the corner of his mouth. "You could've stabbed me in the heart and I wouldn't have survived, it's not like I was trying to stop you. You said you didn't fight it, but you did."

Tears welled up in Jaskier's eyes. "I'm still sorry that you were hurt by my hand."

"Me too," Geralt replied, holding Jaskier's cheek in his hand.

Jaskier smiled at him.

He then took the oil from the night table, and grabbed one of Geralt's hands and poured some oil in his fingers. With his eyes fixed on his, Jaskier guided Geralt's hand to his entrance.

"Make me ready for you."

Geralt groaned and breeched Jaskier with one finger, delighting on the stretched moan it pulled from the bard. After a while, he added a second finger and went to search for Jaskier's prostate.

"Yes, right there. Keep going, that's it," Jaskier wailed, his fingers sinking into Geralt's biceps, leaving marks for sure. He chased those fingers with fast movements of his hips. "Another one, right now. Add another one," he commanded and Geralt obeyed.

After a while, he took Geralt's hand by the wrist and removed his fingers from inside him. Staring deeply into Geralt's eyes, Jaskier grabbed the oil and poured it on his dick, smirking when he jumped at the contact.

Jaskier sank down with a groan.

"Jaskier, Jaskier," he moaned. His hands held to his waist, not to guide him but to support himself. Hand-shaped bruises might appear the following day on Jaskier's skin, but neither of them minded.

His pace was slow but firm, making sure to feel every sensation of every thrust. Geralt remained with his hips still, because Jaskier didn't tell him he was allowed to move, so he didn't.

"Geralt, fuck, you're so big. I'm so full, always so full. Don't- don't leave a hole in my life ever again," he said rushing the pace. They wouldn't last long, not this time, not after years of wanting. "Fuck me, witcher, fuck me."

Geralt didn't need to hear twice, he gave strong thrusts that Jaskier met. The room filled with the music of their coupling.

"I missed you. All of you. I missed you so much. I-" Geralt stops, overwhelmed with feelings.

"Say it, Geralt. I deserve to hear it."

"I love you," Geralt confessed and came inside of his bard.

Jaskier kept riding him through his orgasm as he jerked himself off fast, chasing his own release. With just the minimum of brain power to tell what was happening, Geralt moved a hand to caress his nipples, and that simple touch was enough for Jaskier, who came with an aborted shout, biting his lip to keep it in.

He fell forward, resting his head on Geralt's shoulder as he recovered his breath. Afterwards, he gave a quick kiss to him before disentangling himself with a grimace as Geralt's cock fell from out of him to search for a cloth to clean them both.

Once most of the fluids had been cleaned away, he lied back on the bed, half his body over Geralt. He traced idle paths over Geralt's chest, until unknowingly he was tracing a scar.

"What are you thinking?" Geralt asked

"Hmm?"

"You're deep in thought, lost somewhere."

"I'm just glad we got here," Jaskier sighed. A deep sigh of all the things Jaskier was not yet ready to say. Maybe some day.

Geralt turned, pressing Jaskier against the bed and kissed him deeply. Marveling in the fact that this wonderful man let him.

"I'll never hurt you again," Geralt said, voice deep with passion and serious.

Jaskier let out a heavy sigh. "Don't make promises you can't keep." Jaskier interrupted him before he could talk. "You will, sooner or later, you will again. You'll get scared, or something will happen and you'll fall back into your old ways. You know it's true."

Jaskier looked at him with imploring eyes, the blue in them strong with emotion. "Just- just promise me you won't take me for granted. That you know that the next time you hurt me, you might lose me for good."

Geralt's expression was pained. "I promise," he said. And he kissed Jaskier again this time, with fear, and pain, and love. "I don't want to lose you."

"Then don't."

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to make the clarification that the song is not about victim blaming, but rather about being trapped in a toxic relationship or behavior. When you _know_ that the best thing for you is leaving or changing a behavior, but you just can't. Despite everything inside yourself telling you to just do it.  
> The idea of this fic was about that, about Jaskier feeling trapped in a toxic behavior he couldn't break. But it was also about growth and learning. Where both of them, Geralt and Jaskier change their toxic behaviors. Geralt will no longer be rude, Jaskier will no longer take shit from him. Or at least they'll try.


End file.
